


Let our hearts (like doors) open wide

by Trashy_Pineapple



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Puppies, Sleepovers, Slow Burn, Vicchan Lives, Victor is still a skater, Victor spelled with a k, and has babies lol, kinda lol, lawyer!yuuri, they're idiots and timing is a bitch, yuuri had an injury and is now a lawyer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashy_Pineapple/pseuds/Trashy_Pineapple
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, aged 26, was the greatest skater alive.He was also completely whipped over Yuuri Katsuki, dog whisperers’ whisperer.It had been four years since Yuuri had moved next door, and they’d since become friends. Close friends, he’d even say. They’d started hanging out after bumping into each other on the corridor when trying to take their dogs on a walk. Apparently Makka and Vicchan had hit it off pretty easily, and so Yuuri and Viktor were soon to follow.or: the one where Yuuri and Viktor raise puppies together while tiptoeing around each other.





	1. Happiness, it hurts.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this post](https://yoificprompts.tumblr.com/post/163963756764/au-yuuri-and-victor-are-neighbors-but-dont-know) on tumblr! i thought it was pretty sweet, although i made my own changes here and there lol. The title comes from North by Sleeping at last bc im a fcking sap! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: how both Yuuri and Viktor found their respective kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is how they each found their doggos! i've already written like five chapters of this, but they're brief so do not fret! and yeah, makka is a gal. also, for plot's sake: viktor's 20 at the beginning and only two years older than Yuuri, Mila and Phichit. Chris is Viktor's age.

Viktor Nikiforov didn’t believe in love at first-sight until he was 20.

Training had been particularly harsh that day, and he was running on four hours of sleep and an empty stomach, so his plans for the rest of the day came down to stopping at the grocery store, buying a gallon of chocolate milk and then sleeping for what he hoped could be a hundred years or until someone dragged his ass back into the sunlight.

He rode the metro, trying his best not to fall asleep. He figured the girl next to him wouldn’t appreciate a stranger drooling all over her. He wondered if she was as exhausted as him and then figured perhaps she was when her head tilted sideways and landed on his shoulder. She seemed young, barely eighteen. She had faint freckles and eye bags maybe as big as her eyeballs themselves. Viktor decided to let her rest until his stop came. Perhaps her embarrassment would be worth it if it meant a few minutes of rest.

Eventually, a monotone voice rang through a speaker, announcing he had reached his stop. He gently shook the girl’s shoulder, and soon her eyelids fluttered open. He smiled at her in what he hoped would come off as kind, but he was too tired to really care. The girl stared at him through hooded eyes, but soon she yelped and flinched from his hold. “You fell asleep, but you seemed so tired I didn’t want to wake you up. Figured that you were going to be embarrassed anyhow when you woke up, so might as well make it count, no?”

The girl didn’t answer for a while, and Viktor was starting to feel uneasy. Maybe he should’ve just woken her up earlier. He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his neck, “Maybe that was weird. I’m sorry if I creeped you out!” the sound of sliding doors reminded him that he needed to hurry up, so he finished lamely, “My name’s Viktor. Although I don’t see how that changes anything… God, I better get going before I keep rambling, right? I really am sorry. Have a nice day.” And then he walked toward the exit.

“Hey, Viktor!” an unfamiliar voice called. He turned around and found the sleepy girl from the metro had dashed after him. Her hair was a tousled mess and she was tripping over her handbag, too big or heavy for her. Once she reached him, he waited for her to catch her breath. She was bent over and holding her knees, taking deep breaths, and he wondered if she had really run after him. After a couple of breaths, the girl stood up and offered her hand. “I’m Mila! Thank you.” He stared at her hand for a while, shocked, but then his face melted into a grin and he clasped her hand.

“A pleasure! Why are you thanking me though?”

“For letting me rest. For not being rude about it. For trying to make things less awkward. I guess it’s better to thank someone for being kind and understanding than apologizing, right? An apology doesn’t change anything, a thank you shows appreciation. So thank you.”

He thought about it, trying to digest her words. He finally settled on answering, “Well, I can’t fight that logic. Are you really that tired? And was this really your stop?”

“What?” she wore a confused expression, but it quickly wore off. “Oh, yeah. Harsh day. I’m a figure skater, you know? And I’m going to college next year so I barely get any sleep nowadays. I was going to stop at the convenience store around the corner and then crash at my friend’s apartment. It’s nearby anyway.”

Now, that was a coincidence. “Really? I’m also a figure skater! I was on my way to buy chocolate milk, wanna tag along?” She hesitated for a while, but held his gaze none the less.

“Alright. But, dude, chocolate milk? You look like a grownup to me, harsh day?” “You don’t even want to know all of it.”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

They reached the convenience store and Viktor bought his milk. Right now he was sitting on the curb outside with the younger girl while sharing the gallon with her.

“N’aw, man. This thing is shit compared to what my babushka could make.”

Turns out Mila was an eighteen year old figure skater from Russia, like him, who would die for Kylie Minogue and drank shitty milk when she was tired, like him. “Yeah. Want me to drink the rest?”

“No?” her tone was questioning, but she wasn’t actually expecting an answer. “You think I respect myself? I don’t, and neither do you, Vitya. So pass me that crap, we don’t drink quality milk, we die like men.”

He didn’t know exactly when they became close enough for her to call him Vitya, but he found out he didn’t mind. Mila had her head thrown back, chugging the last bit of the milk, when they heard a whine. “What was that?” he asked. The redhead stood up and looked around.

“I don’t know. Didn’t sound exactly reassuring. Do you think someone’s hurt?” There was another whine, this time weaker.

“Let’s go find out. I think it came from behind the store.” They made their way through a shady looking alley and there, behind a trash container, laid a whimpering plastic bag.

“What the fuck” exclaimed both of them in unison. He ended up approaching it, and carefully tearing it open, the knot of it too complicated to be undone.

Inside, a small dog curled on itself. He picked it up, and stood up, walking back to where Mila stood. “Uh. So what do we do now?”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Any kind of plan he could’ve had of crashing onto his bed as soon as he got home went to hell. Mila and him spent the rest of the afternoon getting a vet to check on the puppy and buying supplies for it. “You know, you could just put it up for adoption.”

“Yeah, and I could also grow my hair out but I’d rather just die.”

Once they had food, bowls, a bed (“No, Viktor! The doggo needs a bed for themselves. No, Viktor, You can’t just share with them forever”), shampoo and all sorts of things he figured the dog wouldn’t even need, they made their way back to the veterinary. They’d left the dog there earlier for a checkup and the doctor had told them to be back in half an hour.

By the time they were done, the sun had gone down and Viktor had gotten himself a dog, just like said dog (who had turned out to be a she) had gotten herself a home. He had settled for the name Makkachin, who would need antibiotics for two weeks and a special formula. She had an infection in her left eye, product of being left out to die in a plastic bag, and was severely weakened from malnutrition.

Viktor was disgusted at the level of cruelty other could reach. He got home at almost ten, and as he stared at the sleeping puppy he settled two things:

1) He had found true love in the form of bean toes and chocolate curls.

2) He had found an all-encompassing friendship because of exhaustion, self-deprecating jokes, and chocolate milk.

He went to bed with the feeling that it had been a wonderful day.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Yuuri Katsuki was 18 when he got Vicchan.

He had gone to Detroit for college and missed home deeply. He missed the faint scent of cigarettes that lingered on Mari’s clothes, and he missed his mother’s katsudon. He even missed his father’s embarrassing karaoke nights after drinking too much.

The thing with Yuuri was that, with Phichit Chulanot as his roommate, he had near to zero self-control. He missed home, and so what did he do? He got himself a poodle. Phichit was ecstatic, his coach? Maybe not so much.

“Yuuri! You are a college student and a professional athlete with a strict regime, where are you going to get time from to care for a dog?” Yuuri’s arguments were weak and unconvincing to Celestino, who only dropped the topic after Phichit argued the two of them were going to work around their schedules to care for Vicchan. “Dog spelled backwards is God, ChiaoChiao. Please don’t try to fight that logic, it’s blasphemous, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos are appreciated! come talk to me [here.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ducktocks)The kylie Minogue part is because i actually like this version of [her song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7umeythh24&list=LLg1XBLgUcdBzyEOiB-1PXRA&index=90). the title comes from this dog days are over by florence and the machine, and Makkachin's experience comes from what happened to my sister's cat. until the next, folks!


	2. timid love (beneath your skin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: the losers have dinner and unexpected news force them into parenthood. Not that they're complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! this is such a sudden update! i'm sorry, i have this outlined already and got two pretty sweet comments that motivated me on last chapter lmao i am sorry, forgive me. Also! i forgot to mention: English is Not My First Language, and i'm a teenager so like. this might have mistakes bc it's unbeta'd? i know those aren't excuses, so i'll give this my best! the title for this chapter comes from [this song!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5nrAHk_x8M&list=LLg1XBLgUcdBzyEOiB-1PXRA&index=46)

Viktor Nikiforov, aged 26, was the greatest skater alive.

He was also completely whipped over Yuuri Katsuki, dog whisperers’ whisperer.

It had been four years since Yuuri had moved next door, and they’d since become friends. Close friends, he’d even say. They’d started hanging out after bumping into each other on the corridor when trying to take their dogs on walks. Apparently Makka and Vicchan had hit it off pretty easily, and so Yuuri and Viktor were soon to follow. They took walks to the park, and sometimes they’d drop by for their children’s weekly play dates.

On one of said dates, and just as Viktor was about to leave, Yuuri reached out and grabbed his hand. “Hey, uh. It’s quite early still so… uh… would you maybe like to stay for dinner? I know you have practice tomorrow so you totally don’t have to but I just thought that uh… I don’t even know, to be honest.”

Yuuri’s cheeks had flushed somewhere along his speech, and Viktor added to the list of things he knew and adored about him that Yuuri Katsuki looked absolutely lovely when embarrassed. He turned around, now fully facing the shorter man, and held his hand properly, not letting go of it even though Yuuri’s hold had turned loose for a while now. “I’d love to, solnishko,” he replied quietly.

That seemed to please Yuuri, who relaxed visibly and in return squeezed his hand. He then proceeded to talk animatedly about what they were making for dinner, eyes bright and dimples showing.

They left their dogs on the living room while they chatted and ate at the kitchen. “So how did you get Makka anyway? She’s a very special girl.”

Viktor chuckled, “I found her on a plastic bag behind a convenience store the day I met Mila.”

Yuuri’s eyes went wide, and he muttered seriously, “Oh dear god. How was she?”

“Small. Scared. Sick. She recovered quite quickly, but she made me a believer on love at first-sight. I’m also really thankful to Mila, though. She showed me blinding support and helped out a lot with Makka. We were both really tired the day we met, we actually got along after she fell asleep on me at the metro.”

Something crossed Yuuri’s features, but he schooled his features on record time. “So Mila taught you love at first-sight? That’s so romantic! I used to advocate for it until recently.”

Viktor thought Yuuri’s voice turned bitter nearing the end of his statement, but he wasn’t quite sure. He was kind of confused right now. “What? No, Yuuri, you got it wrong. Makkachin taught me love at first-sight. That dog taught me kindness and selflessness and so much more. Mila had a girlfriend at the time, still does, and she’s like a sibling to me.”

Now Yuuri’s wide eyes were back. He looked so cute, Viktor was going to die. “Oh”

He laughed. “I’m not even straight, Yuuri! I wear V-necks with God as my witness, that was just straight up disrespectful.”

They bursted out laughing. The rest of the evening was pure bliss.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

Yuuri Kastuki, aged 24 and lawyer extraordinaire, was a graceful dancer and a frustrated skater.

His skating career had been cut short after an injury, just like his mopping over Viktor had been cut short by Phichit Chulanot.

“Goddamit, shut the hell up, Yuuri! The man could be dying at the Sahara and he would still choose to have you near over a bottle of water. You’re paradise to mere mortals, but I’m afraid you mean so much more to Nikiforov. Now stop being a crybaby over the fact that water is wet and let me feed my kids.”

He was about to retort, tell him that it was impossible that someone as bright and kind and beautiful as Viktor would ever like someone like Yuuri, clumsy and anxious Yuuri, when there was a banging at his door.

“Coming!”

The banging got more desperate.

“Hold on, I said I’m coming!”

He opened the door and was greeted by Viktor. But not Viktor's usual self, this was Vitya, which meant a softer version of Victor. His hair was sticking up, looking incredibly soft, and his cheeks were red, dissimulating the freckles Yuuri knew dusted his face. He was wearing an oversized sweater and yoga pants and Yuuri felt like he should call his mum and thank her for timing his birth so perfectly as for to him to witness the cosmic contradiction of nature that Viktor Nikiforov was.

“-so I took her to the vet and I’m waiting for their call.” Viktor stared at him, waiting for a response. When Yuuri didn’t answer, he tilted his head to the right and waved a hand in front of his face. “Yuhu? Yuuri?”

Oh, crap. He’d been staring, hadn’t he? He shook his head and asked, “Excuse me? I didn’t hear you.”

Viktor’s face twisted into a petulant pout. “Yuuri! You didn’t pay attention! I was saying Makkachin started complaining during the night a few days ago, so I checked up on her and I could feel a lump on her belly. I got really worried and took her to the vet, and apparently she’s having babies. I’m waiting for them to call me because they said perhaps we could see her today!”

Now, those were some news. “Oh dear, really? Come in and wait for the call here. I’ll go with you when it’s time to go see her, then! Jesus Christ, Viktor! Why didn’t you mention it was so important?”

“But I did! You were just ignoring me!”

Yuuri casted his eyes downwards, suddenly embarrassed. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I was just… distracted…”

“By what? What could be more important than our baby?” Yuuri flushed at the term ‘our baby’, and figured he couldn’t answer ‘I’ve been in love with you for like a lifetime and was too distracted by your freckles, and oh by the way, did you know they’re more noticeable on this time of the year?”.

Luckily, Viktor’s cell phone started ringing, and Yuuri sighed, now free of his questioning gaze. Viktor took the call, and Yuuri went to fetch both Phichit, who was giggling at his hamsters, and a coat. He couldn’t wait to see Makkachin and then take a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wild ride, i suck a slowburn!!!! comments (!!!!) and kudos are appreciated! i love y'all sm lmao thanks for reading! find me [here:)](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ducktocks)


	3. Grace requires nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: the losers met the babies and a bigger loser is added to The Gang (gay for gang)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone in the previous chapter asked who the dad was. I laughed evily while sipping on mint tea. Hope you enjoy! Title for this one comes from [here lol](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPgH4eBTAPk&list=LLg1XBLgUcdBzyEOiB-1PXRA&index=17)

Viktor had driven them to the veterinary, Phichit riding shotgun. The glass doors of the place slid open and then they had to push open another door, but once inside the place showed to be quite warm. There were some black leather sofas covered in frayed and multicolored pillows, a coffee table with an assortment of magazines and books in the middle of it all. There were a few plants across the room, and Yuuri couldn’t figure whether they were plastic or real.

A [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwZzc_QZGdw) played softly and a man raised his head from behind a wooden counter Yuuri had just now noticed.  He was wearing pink cat-patterned scrubs and big round glasses, and Yuuri realized his ridiculous undercut actually complimented him. The man approached them and exclaimed, “Viktor!”

He then patted Viktor’s butt.

Yuuri guessed that logically speaking, he had no right to be angry about it, and he wasn’t. It wasn’t some kind of petty jealousy, believe him it wasn’t. He knew Viktor had a lot of friends and well, _friends_ , but he didn’t get how he could be so okay with people just feeling him up like it was no big deal. Yuuri wasn’t angry to begin with, he was uncomfortable.

Beside him Viktor chuckled, removing the man’s hand from his person. “Hi, Chris. We’re here to check on Makka.”

Chris (he guessed?) then turned toward Phichit and Yuuri before quirking an eyebrow and asking, “Oh,  and who are ‘we’?” Yuuri didn’t understand the sultry accent on his voice, and it made him want to crawl out of his skin. Phichit seemed to catch onto his uneasiness, and was quick to answer, “This is Yuuri, Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m Phichit Chulanot. Please abstain from touching our derrière, s’il vous plait.” And then he offered his hand, grinning.

As Chris gripped Phichit’s hand, Yuuri felt his uneasiness melt away. Perhaps this wasn’t a bad man, just a really… weird one.

“Guys, this is Christophe Giacometti.” He then turned to Yuuri, eyes alight. “He’s a close friend of mine and Makka’s vet.”

Yuuri stared back, unimpressed. “Oh. Cool, then.”

Viktor seemed confused by his reaction, but soon forgot about it when Chris asked them to follow him. They reached a small room, with an examination table and a couple of shelves full of stuff Yuuri couldn’t name. There was a chair tucked in the corner of the room, a coat laying over it. A desk covered in paint and ink and a worn leather chair were positioned next to a window, and there were papers and books neatly organized all over the room. The clinic felt oddly cozy, and Yuuri decided he liked it. The frayed threads of the pillows, and the scratched and worn sofas, the soft and lingering music that hummed through the place, all of this things reminded Yuuri of Viktor’s own warmth.

Chris asked them to sit down, and then started talking to Viktor about procedures, the condition of the dogs, and the cautions needed for Makkachin for the next few days, but that overall she was good to go and they could visit her right then. Christophe then led them through a hallway, his shoes clicking against the tiles of the floor. Somewhere on their way, Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s hand without offering comment. He didn’t let go until they reached a nursery-like room and the blond addressed him.

There, in the middle of the room, was a nest of whining puppies next to one big and exhausted dog. Viktor immediately rushed next to his beloved Makkachin while Phichit took pictured of them and said, “puppers” once and over again in a monotone voice, like a kid pointing at things and calling them their names. However, and regardless of anyone’s excitement, something had just dawned upon Yuuri.

The puppies were poodles.

He approached Viktor and tapped him on the shoulder, catching his attention. “Hey, Vitya. Do you happen to know who the dad of the dogs is?”

Viktor stared at him, face expressionless. He then turned around and faced the dogs, before acknowledging Yuuri, “Uh. Not really? I thought Makka was dying for five secs there and didn’t think about who the father was.”

“Okay, then. The puppies are poodles, Viktor.”Heart shaped smile giving him away, Yuuri could guess Viktor didn’t know where he was going with this. “Vitenka, has Makkachin been around other poodles in the last few months?”

The older man’s nose scrunched up and his eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. “Well, she’s been at the park but I’d always been there then and none of the dogs were poodles…”

Yuuri sighed. “Is there a poodle she’s been near at all in the last few months?”

Viktor laughed, full and bright. “Of course! Vicchan.”

Yuuri knit his eyebrows before inquiring, “So have you considered that maybe those are Vicchan’s babies?”

Viktor’s eyes widened, but then his mouth turned into a huge grin, clapping his hands together. “Oh, lapochka! Of course! That time we stayed over for dinner, we left them alone…” his gaze turned steely and his tone serious. “Yuuri Katsuki, I’m booboo the fool.”

When Yuuri laughed, Viktor softened again. “I guess so, but at least you’re the cutest one, right?” Viktor’s cheeks and ears went red, and Yuuri realized what he had said. _Oh_ , he thought. “Anyway, I was just as much of a dumbass for not realizing either! And in the end I have more children to provide and care for, so it’s really a blessing,” he explained hurriedly. 

He then dashed off to look for Phichit and retell his embarrassment.

He found the Thai boy talking animatedly with Chris. Turns out Chris was asking for Phichit’s skincare routine.

“Yuuri, look at his cheekbones. Look at them. 24 karat magic, right there, I need him to drop the secret.” Yuuri didn’t have the heart to tell him that Phichit honestly didn’t have a secret, he was just… _like that_.

When Phichit insisted rosewater did the trick for him, Chris gave up and dropped the topic, instead turning to Yuuri. “Well? And what’s your secret, Katsuki?”

Yuuri, oblivious, asked, “What do you mean? I just splash cold water on it.”

The blonde’s eyes glinted with mischief and amusement. “That’s not what I meant, honey. How do you manage to be the charmer Viktor makes you out to be? Although I hope that’s not the only thing he makes out of you, if you get what I mean.”

Yuuri flushed down to his neck and refused to answer the question, Phichit bursting out with laughter in the back.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

They’d been back from the vet for a while, and they were lounging on Viktor’s apartment. Yuuri had changed into pajamas and taken Vicchan with him so the dog could meet his offspring. At the moment, Viktor was showering, Yuuri watching the T.V, and the puppies sleeping.

He was watching a movie from Viktor’s surprisingly big collection. They’d gotten home and settled the dogs on a makeshift bed, then Viktor had decided he was disgusting and therefore should shower. He told Yuuri to get comfortable and choose anything he’d like to watch or kill time with, but most movies had titles in either Cyrillic or French. Yuuri made a mental note to ask Viktor just how many languages he spoke before finally settling on a movie with a redhead girl in the snow on the cover. The back of the movie case explained the plot in English, so he guessed it was fine.

He sprawled himself on the couch, nestled between the cushions and blankets Viktor kept there. In the movie, carriages arrived to what he guessed must be the Winter Palace. He remembered watching this same thing with a friend in college. His name was Leo and he had rambled about inaccuracies throughout the whole thing. The film was supposed to be about a lost Russian princess, and Yuuri remembered really liking the soundtrack.

Now, as a little girl sang about visiting Paris with her grandmother, Viktor emerged from the bathroom, a dense cloud of steam behind him and… a towel hanging loosely from his hips. Yuuri turned around quickly, focusing on the movie again and cursing everything that lead him to this and himself for being so, _oh god, so_ gay.

He ended up actually paying more attention to the movie than he had originally meant to, learning that the girl was actually Anastasia, daughter of the last Tsar. Right now, people were bashing the Tsar and a wicked looking guy was in the middle of cursing his family. As Anastasia tripped through the palace, Yuuri decided  the movie went hard as hell and loved it.

The young girl fell from the train wagon and Yuuri screamed. Soon, Viktor came rushing to him, exclaiming worriedly, “Yuuri! Are you okay?” He was wearing a different sweater and pajama pants, feet bare and socks in hand. His hair was still damp and fell limply on his face as he settled next to Yuuri, facing him

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I?” he asked dumbfounded.

“Well, I was changing and I heard you shriek and… hey, Yuuri, you’re crying,” and then Viktor Nikiforov was touching his face, calloused fingers against his skin.

“Am I? Oh… well, that’s embarrassing,” he chuckled, grapping his hands around Viktor’s wrists. The older man’s hands stilled, thumbs rubbing circles on his cheeks softly and piercing eyes set on him.

“Is there anything bothering you?” the concern dripped from Viktor’s voice and onto Yuuri’s veins, warming his heart. He wondered exactly how much he meant to the other man. The thought was too much, too surreal, and there was only one way out of this one: fucking up.

“Yeah, actually there was something I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Viktor stared at him, expectant. “Why do all of your movies make me emo?” The Russian’s face twisted from worry into surprise, and then he laughed, awkward and warm.

“Was that why you scared the hell out of me? Because kids’ movies make you emotional?”

Yuuri was sure he was pouting, but he stubbornly countered, “It sounds bad when you put it like that…”

Viktor’s eyes softened, gaze warm and deep. Yuuri couldn’t stand it, and lowered his gaze until a fingered grabbed his chin. Viktor lowered his head, now eyelevel to Yuuri and said, “Nothing about you could be bad, you know. Not to me at least. Want me to point out the inaccuracies of the film, though? And rave about Russian history? I have two talents, Yuuri: skating and knowing a fuck ton about history.” _And making Japanese freaks fall for you,_ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayeeeee, you've read so far? I'm forever thankful to those who've left comments and kudos, you're all really kind and i love you eternally! as a thank you to those who've been enjoying this, I'm posting two chapters today! Thank you again, and stay lovely!!!  
> I would love it if you came talk to me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ducktocks)  
> also, the song playing at the vet is by a chilean artist that i feel needs more recognition! He is very dear to me and is just a very soft man who deserves all the love. Feel free to message me if you want translated lyrics, or if you'd like to know more about his songs! i could rant forever about my favourites :)


	4. Make my heart spin sorrow into silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: they stop being petty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all this chapter means so much to me bc of the anastasia references... i know sm abt russian history that it's actually ridiculous how much i love tha movie but i just... it's so good lol. Anyways! sorry it took a while for the update? got sidetracked bc im watching while you were sleeping (It's surprisingly good) the title for this one comes from this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_IhJq-Jpdc&list=LLg1XBLgUcdBzyEOiB-1PXRA&index=6)

Viktor didn’t consider himself a bad person. He’s bold and brutally honest, sometimes a little too much, and leaves the toothpaste tube uncapped. However, he wonders what good he must’ve done to deserve Yuuri Katsuki.

Last night Yuuri had stayed until late under the premise of caring for the puppies (“Those puppers are my children too, NIkiforov!”) and had cried over Anastasia as Viktor explained that it was actually wrong, that at the time Anastasia should be older and her grandma most likely dead. Yuuri had told him to shut up, and so Viktor complied. Partially. He ended up singing along, but Yuuri didn’t seem to mind that.

This morning, Viktor had woken up to a weight on his chest and steady breaths warming his neck and heart. The screen of the T.V had gone blue, and the curtains of the living room were still drawn shut, weak sunlight making its way in anyhow. Yuuri was still sleeping, glasses crooked and cheek squashed against Viktor’s shoulder. He was completely sprawled on top of him, legs tangled together and arms lazily wrapped around his waist. He wondered how they got in this position, and exactly when had Yuuri fallen asleep. It didn’t seem to matter, though. He was losing his sanity over this man.

Soon, an alarm blared off, startling him and waking Yuuri up. He tightened his grip on Yuuri with a hand and then reached to turn it off, then putting his phone down and turning to face Yuuri again. The Japanese boy had tensed and gone wide-eyed, like he’d been caught red handed, but Viktor just nosed at his hair, murmuring, “Good-morning, sleepyhead”

They stood up, Yuuri now fully awake and babbling apologies that Viktor just laughed off. Yuuri seemed uneasy, and started, “I… I better get going. I’ll come by later to check on the kids. They can stay at mine today, if you want! Sorry for falling asleep, I swear I didn’t mean to its just that-“ but Viktor interrupted him, “Hey, it’s fine. I wanted you here, it’s no big deal. And don’t worry, they can stay here. We’re keeping them after all, right? Stop apologizing, and stop running away from me all the time, Yuuri. Why don’t you just stay and grab a bite before you go?”

Yuuri seemed like he was about to protest, but once again Viktor cut him short. “I know Phichit left early today and that you take shit care of yourself. Sit down and eat, then you’re free to avoid me all you want,” the Russian declared, obviously unhappy.

Yuuri looked guilty, but remained silent. He settled on the kitchen counter and watched as Viktor got to cooking. They remained like that, in a heavy and lingering silence that brushed the uncomfortable side, before Yuuri broke it, “It’s not that I want to avoid you.”

That caught Viktor off guard, and the pan sizzled, burning his thumb. He hissed and turned it off, plated, and soaked his hand in cold water. He grabbed a hand towel and buried his hand in it, applying pressure. He then turned toward Yuuri, leaning against the counter, “Then what is it? I’ve known you for almost four years and spent the vast majority of them tiptoeing around this to make you comfortable and trying to figure out a way to make you stay, but I still never seem to get it right. It’s like sometimes I’m too much and other times I’m barely enough, you know? And I get it’s not your fault, Yuuri, but sometimes I wish you’d tell me what you want me to be instead of shying away from me. God, if only you knew how much I-“and then the doorbell rang. Viktor sighed, defeated. “Wait a second.”

He made his way to the door, leaving Yuuri and his red rimmed eyes behind. He opened the door and was greeted with red curls and five foot worth of teenage angst. “Vitenka!” exclaimed the younger girl, coming forward to hug him.

“Hello, Mila. What are you doing here? At my apartment. On a Thursday. At nine in the morning. And oh, I see you brought little Yura. How are you doing, kiddo?”

Green eyes stared him down. “Stop playing nice, geezer.”

Viktor smiled, glad to see Yuri was still the same. “It’s the only card I get to play with you, tot.”

Mila laughed, and made her way toward the kitchen as she explained, “We had training early today so I bought some chocolate milk and Yuri wanted waffles so we also bought some of those and decided to come by because you were the closest source of a toaster and jam. Also, Vitya, care to explain why there’s a man on your kitchen this early?”

Viktor rushed after her, nearly tripping on a chair and making Yuri laugh. When he got to the kitchen, Yuuri was still sitting on the counter, but now holding a plate of food. He was staring at Mila with wide eyes while slowly chewing around a spoonful. He then stole glances at him, eyes inevitably returning to Mila and occasionally questioning Yuri’s presence. Viktor sighed for the hundredth time that morning. “This is Yuuri, my neighbor. His dog and mine had babies and we were caring for them, so he stayed over.”

Yuri made a disgusted noise, “Babies? In this place? Jesus Christ I want to retch just from thinking on the amount of disgusting shit they leave all over.”

Mila hummed, then ruffled the teenager’s hair. “Shut up, tot. You cried the other day at practice when your friend sent you pictures of his sister’s puppy.” She then faced Yuuri. “So you’re Yuuri, right? The almighty Yuuri? I’ve heard so much about you!” she clapped Viktor’s shoulder and whispered to his ear, “Way to go, champ.” And then bursted out laughing.

God, Viktor wanted to die. He had practice later that day, so he just schooled his features, praying his blush wasn’t evident, and took the waffles from Mila to prepare them. They had breakfast, and Yuuri seemed to have relaxed after Yuri started arguing with him over why animal print was underrated. The tension from earlier was gone, and Viktor was glad the topic had been forgotten for now.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

 “-and so I had this grown ass drunken Russian man sobbing and singing passionately against my shoulder, and Viktor, the little shit, just sat there and recorded it. I think I threw away that shirt afterwards! It stunk of vodka and was full of Georgi’s… fluids,” retold Mila, waving hands and showing pictures.

Yuuri seemed bemused, a smile fighting his way to his face. Viktor wasn’t exactly surprised, Mila was a charmer. Yuri on the other hand, seemed absolutely bored. He’d eaten five waffles, arguing that Yakov and diets could go fuck themselves.

“Oi, Yura,” began the older Russian man, but soon stopped when two heads turned his way, questioning. “This is gonna be confusing, isn’t it?”

Yuri huffed a breath and grumbled, “Not unless you plan to keep this dumbass around, no.” He then proceeded to glare at Yuuri, maybe intending to make him regret being born, but Yuuri, bless his heart, just smiled, eyes nervous, and waved at the teenager.

“Yeah, well. You’re out of luck, buddy! You’re Yurio now,” stated Mila, like it was logical.

Yurio abruptly stood up, pushing his chair back and slamming his fists violently on the table. “Wait, what? Hell no, fuck you, hag! And also you, geezer!” he said, pointing a finger at Viktor, “It’s not my fault you become emo over your loser neighbor and decide to change my identity for his fucking sake! You can’t fucking do that to me, to begin with! We’re family, as in I’m honest to God related to you. And I know you want to marr- ah, what the fuck?” a hand had wrapped around Yuri’s accusative finger, and started twisting the moment the boy’s mouth seemed to start getting out of control. The young boy stared at Viktor’s hand, betrayed. He huffed a final, “Whatever,” before flopping down on his chair and stealing Mila’s glass of chocolate milk.

Yuuri laughed awkwardly and then ventured, “So… uh. The two of you are related, then? Brothers?”

Viktor laughed, and Yuri shouted, “Fuck no!” Yuuri’s eyes widened, surprised.

“Oh, sorry. I just assumed, you know, because Yurio said,” (“that’s not my fucking name!”), “you two were related and you actually look alike. My bad, sorry.”

Viktor sipped from his milk and then clarified, “Cousins. Our mothers are sisters, so we don’t share a last name. Or personality. Or face. Or anything, matter of factly. The universe was unkind to my baby Yura, you see.”

Yuuri had to stifle his laughter around a bite of waffle, while Mila sputtered her newly retrieved milk. Viktor chuckled, eyeing Yuri as the boy let out a creative and colorful string of curses.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

Yuuri ended up staying a while after Mila and Yuri had left. Their visit had seemed to have lightened Viktor’s mood, and so now they were both sprawled across Viktor’s living room carpet listening to Anastasia’s soundtrack because Yuuri was a huge nerd and decided that they were all blasters and Viktor was an indulging loser who shared that opinion.

“So you’re actually related?”

Viktor raised his head to stare at him questioningly. He was in the middle of coating his middle finger with a nail polish that read ["Trophy Wife](https://www.google.com.mx/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=http://www.essie.com/colors/greens/trophy-wife.aspx&ved=0ahUKEwi5uZmsh5XXAhWFdSYKHTM5B2gQFggoMAA&usg=AOvVaw36NwB_e5wJf7fjzYeS0a3P). Yuuri wanted to kiss his cheek, but settled for taking the brush from him and continue coating the nail before asking, “You and Yurio. You’re actually cousins?”

He didn’t raise his head, focused instead on applying the polish evenly, as Viktor answered, “Uh, ye-yeah. Yeah, we are. Related, I mean. Mama and Aunt Adalise are sisters, although they don’t get along that well. I guess it’s the age gap, Mama is 9 years older.”

“Woah, that’s a lot…” he moved onto Viktor’s ring finger, and noticed a pale scar running down his knuckle there. He caressed it, tender. Everything about them right then was tender. “I only have uncle Hiroki, from mum’s side. They get along fine, but he lives in Tokyo and mum stayed in Kyushu so we rarely got to see him. It was overall okay, but I guess mum missed him now and then. They are really alike, you know? Both have terrible eyesight and soft voices. I remember telling Okaasan that I wanted a twin, like her and Hiroki-san.”

Viktor’s voice was low and warm, and Yuuri feared looking up. “And what did she answer?”

He chuckled, “She’d ask if Mari wasn’t enough, and I’d feel guilty and thank Mari for being my sister. She always stared at me like I had lost my mind, but she'd also hug back every time.”

“Oh. What’s your mother’s name? You seem very fond of her.”

For once, he dared look up. He was met with warm blue eyes and a crooked smile. “Hiroko. Hiroko Katsuki. What about your mum?” he wondered, getting back to work on Viktor’s nails.

“She’s French.” He began. Yuuri hummed in acknowledgment, inviting him to keep on. “Her name’s Sylvie Nikiforova, and she’s an ex-ballerina. Danced for the Mariinski for a few years, met dad there.”

“Is she pretty?”

_(“Heart don’t fail me now, courage don’t desert me, don’t turn back now that we´re here.”)_

Viktor didn’t even hesitate. “Gorgeous. She comes from old money, you know? Like, centuries old money. Dad does as well, so I guess that has to do with how carefree they are. I hold them responsible for uh… well, for being a handful.”

As he finished applying the last coat of polish, Yuuri raised his eyes. On a rush of courage, he met Viktor’s own and whispered, “Good thing my hands are quite big, right?”

(“ _People always say, life is full of choices. No one ever mentions fear! Or how the world can seem so vast, on a journey… to the past.”)_

 _V_ iktor’s voice came out choked, “In-indeed, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... i know... wow, they're cousins! and they kinda hate each other! they don't lol i'm putting effort into making yuri p not as annoying all the time in this so yah he's an angry teen bc i am one myself lol but he's not like. an asshole whose behaviour gets justified all the time? I'm mexican, my mami woops my ass everytime i pull his shit, ok? i dont believe in that kind of behaviour!! also! :0 vicchan was the dad?? what??? unexpected?!?! i'm sorry there are no deets on the pups?? i'll make them up rn: they're seven and i'll come up with names later and let phichit be the one to name them. I also dont! fccin! know where this is going!!!! talk to me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ducktocks)and lemme know if you'd like anything? if it's too soon for them to smooch or if i should just Let It Happen lol. english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes it's just that i'm a fool. Kudos, comments and messages on tumbler.com are appreciated very much! i luv y'all lol soz for the long note!!!! (p.d: should chapters be longer? i feel like im scamming y'all)


	5. truth's got its eye set on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: sleepovers start becoming a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol im sorry they act like a couple but i refuse to let them kiss lmao. let's see when the op decided to fccing change that! as always, thank you to those who've shown support. you're the kindest!

 

Yuuri got home a little before midday. Phichit was already back from wherever he had run off to, reading a textbook on the couch. He looked up when he heard the door shut, and wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, well, well. Look who’s back from a crazy night out!”

“It wasn’t crazy? We literally made sure the puppies slept fine and watched Anastasia, which by the way is fucking beautiful.”

“Lol, that’s it?”Phichit inquired, now gazing suspiciously at Yuuri.

“Uh, yeah. And did you just say ‘lol’ in the middle of a verbal conversation?”

Phichit cringed, but then grinned and said, “Lmao, fire haha we dem bois. Lit, live love laugh.”

“I’m gonna go shower and you better be gone when I’m out.”

The Thai boy pouted. “I live here! You can’t just throw me out whenever I annoy you, c’mon.”

Rolling his eyes, he retorted, “It’s not about that, loser. I have work, and you have practice.”

Phichit clicked his tongue, “Touché, champ… but I’ll get all the _juice_ eventually.”

Yuuri slapped his forhead, making him stumble against the couch, “Sure thing, buddy,” and walked towards the bathroom.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

Katsuki Yuuri was not a filthy liar. He was also nothing out of the ordinary, or so he believed. He was shy and awkward and usually fumbled, but he was determined. So yeah, Yuuri was plain at best but he liked to think he had quirks that made up for it.

Being a lawyer was one of them, for example. When he was young and saw Viktor in the T.V, Yuuri dreamed of being a skater. Minako, his aunt (not really, but yes), used to tell him he’d be a great danseur so he also considered that for a while. Never did he once consider going into Law.

According to Shakespeare, “It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.” But now, aged 24, Yuuri thinks that it doesn’t matter, because all three of them; the stars, himself and destiny, are nothing but a bunch of weak-willed motherfuckers. When he landed on his knee at the age of seventeen and heard a crack he still dreams of, he can swear on everything holy and dammed that he did not hold such destiny.

Besides the embarrassment that fucking his knee up at Nationals meant, Yuuri  wouldn’t say it had been the worst. The worst had been the newspapers and pitiful looks he got all the time.

 ** _‘Japan’s rising star Yuri Katsuki’s wings clipped abruptly?’_** an American article had read. He remembered wanting to vomit at the sound of it. Jesus, they hadn’t even gotten his name right.

However, after a long time at rehab, Yuuri was back on both legs. Never to skate professionally again, but at least he could carry on dancing. He didn’t, though, not professionally. Minako’s disappointed gaze still haunts him sometimes. He was fine now, and over it, but there was a time where he hadn’t been. He would lash out at everyone and cry all the time. He had been embarrassed and ashamed, but mostly hurt: a heavy sense of self-betrayal looming heavily over his head, like a sword. He supposed people around him eventually got tired of it, because Mari wouldn’t address him when he got into said mood, and Phichit would stop calling him but instead asking his mum how he was doing, probably tired of getting shouted at. Things changed when his mum left a tiny piece of paper beside his bed, slipping out as quietly as she’d come in. He still thought his mum was an ethereal being, ageless and forever graceful.

The paper had read: “Date Annaisha, therapist” and a phone number. He’d been reluctant at first, but Date-san had shown to be patient, and Yuuri ended up healing from more than his anger issues. He’d learned how to get himself back from anxiety. Annaisha Date was a woman with two kids, both of them in college. She had kind eyes and thinning hair, and had learnt to work around Yuuri’s barriers quite fast. Anyhow, she tried to convince him to let people in and choose people who’d be able to help him deal with his anxiety.

Yuuri had refused. He’d dealt with anxiety for most of his teenage years, and his mental health was no one’s business but his own. Bothering others wouldn’t change his mental stability, and so he’d learned to stay put. Not the best option, according to her, but any kind of improvement was welcomed. Date-san knew very well she could only help as much as Yuuri would let her.

Soon enough, Yuuri was off to law school. Off to America, trying to make something out of himself. And now, Yuuri worked on a renowned law firm with a high success rate on the cases he took. He took pride in being both a good lawyer and an honest man. Besides, the view from his office wasn’t that bad, and Detroit wasn’t as hellish as people made it out to be. It had nice zones he stuck to, and no place could be terrible when people like Phichit Chulanot and Viktor Nikiforov graced them.

In the end, Yuuri was certain of a few things. First of all, nothing is set on stone. Life takes unexpected turns like an indecisive child and you have to make do. Second of all, he’s not a bitter person, and he’s grateful about that over anything else. And lastly, he’s not alone. He’s never been, and is completely unfamiliar with the feeling, and he feels like crying whenever the thought pops up.

So, as Yuuri makes his way towards his office, coffee in hand and coat hanging from his shoulder, he smiles. He greets Gretel at the counter and hops into the lift. He bumps into Rafael, who questions his good mood.

“I just feel like today’s gonna be a good day, buddy,” he states, and then a _ding!_ is heard meaning he reached his floor. He walks away, smile still plastered on his face, and gifts his undrank coffee to Bianca, the Italian intern.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

Yuuri gets home late, smile still platered on his face. He’d gone out with Guang-Hong and Leo, meaning to grab some Katsudon. It wasn’t as good as his mother’s, but they’d bumped into the Crispino’s and Micky’s antics made the meal a thousand times more enjoyable when it was shared over Sara’s bubbly laughter and Guang-Hong spilling cheap wine when trying to hold back his laughter.

“So my neighbor’s dog had puppies,” he began.

Leo put down his phone, and the other stilled from laughing, except for Mickey, whose pout softened as he set his chopsticks down.

“Is that so?” Sara wondered. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks flushed from laughter and maybe alcohol. She was a really pretty girl, he thought. Eyes so odd they seemed purple and hair long and silky.

“Yeah. They’re poodles, and there’s seven of them,” Leo groped his cheeks and muffled a cooing sound, “we’re keeping them. He’s really fond of them, and Vicchan is the dad. They’re a few days old, so we haven’t named them yet.”

Guang-Hong’s mouth hung open, eyes shining. “That’s so cute, oh my god!” he exclaimed. Sara, however, remained silent. She then turned towards him and said, “That’s… weird.”

He gave her a questioning look, meaning for her to explain herself. “It’s just that… my girlfriend’s best friend’s dog just had puppies as well. With a neighbor’s dog, too. And they’re poodles as well. What’s your neighbor’s name, Yuuri?”

Yuuri stared at her for a while suspiciously. No way her girlfriend was Mila, right? “Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov, familiar?”

Leo dropped his fork, staring at him agape. “ _The_ Viktor Nikiforov is your neighbor? What the heck! That’s so cool! And y’all are friends too, Santo Niño de Atocha, I need a second.”

Sara, unperturbed, kept on, “Oh, so you _are_ the neighbor Mila insists Vitya keeps rambling about, huh. Well, that’s cool! Make sure to invite us over sometime to play with the babies!”

So that’s how Yuuri found out both that the world is really small indeed, and that Mila’s infamous long time girlfriend is actually Sara Crispino. At this point, Yuuri is tired. He’s happy, but he’s exhausted. He worked a long shift and his back is starting to get sore, so he opts for the lift. He presses the button and calls for it, and then stands there, waiting for it to come. Soon, the sound of the front door clicking echoes through the building’s lobby, and Yuuri turns around to find a sweaty and exhausted Viktor.

If Yuuri thought he looked like shit, it’s nothing compared to Viktor right now. His bangs stick oddly to his forehead, and his face is a concerning shade of red. He’s limping and his clothes are wrinkled, and he’s sporting the biggest eyebags ever. He’s still lovely when he notices Yuuri and smiles, paces quicker as if eager to reach him. They doors of the elevator open, and the both walk inside. “Hi! Why are you back so late, was it a heavy day?”

Yuuri smiles. He’s so in love he wouldn’t be surprised if he imploded with it. “Kinda. Big workload, but it was fun. I grabbed dinner with some friends, found out Sara is dating Mila and knows you. How about you, bad day? You seem… sad, to be honest.”

Viktor’s mouth quirked upwards for a brief second before he replied, “Only you would notice that, Yura. It’s fine, really.” This made Yuuri unhappy, and he insisted, “You really don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” asked Viktor, confused.

“Pretend. You said you wanted me to be honest on what I expect of you. The truth is I don’t expect anything of you. I’m the last person who would ever pressure you into anything, Viktor. I only want you to be yourself,” he babbled.

Viktor’s face changed, now unrecognizable.  He seemed far away, smile empty.

“Stop it!” Yuuri demanded, startling Viktor, “You keep locking yourself away! It’s unfair you get to demand shit from me at ass o’clock in the morning and then refuse to do it yourself. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s bullshit.” He took long steps forward, and then stepped on his tiptoes, raising his hands and cupping Viktor’s face in them, “I know you’re flawed. You drink abnormal amounts of chocolate milk and like vodka a little too much when you’re upset. You overwork yourself, which is probably why you’re like this right now, and fall asleep with the T.V on. I know that, I know that, believe me: I fucking know that! And I still lo-“ he stopped abruptly and cleared his throat, “- and I still loathe it when you feel like it somehow makes you less. What’s the point of friendship if it’s not all-encompassing?”

Viktor’s eyes were now wide and tear-rimmed. Yuuri swiftly whipped the tears away before they could fall, and patted his cheek. He then stepped back and sighed as the lift dinged. He stepped out, and looked back when Viktor stood limply there. “You coming? C’mon, I’ll make you some hot chocolate or whatever and you can crash at mine for today. You don’t look ok, I don’t want you to be alone.”

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

Viktor sat on Yuuri’s couch, Phichit watching an old program of Stephan Lambiel on the T.V while Yuuri walked back and forth between their apartments, retrieving puppy by puppy and both Makkachin and Vicchan chasing him around. He looked like the mother of a bunch of ducklings.

Once the dogs were settled for the night, Yuuri flopped down next to Viktor, tie undone and barefoot.  He rested his head against his shoulder, and Viktor had to physically make an effort to calm down his heart and slow down his breathing. Eventually Phichit cleared his throat. “Uh-hum. Viktor, you look like shit, go take a shower or get the fuck out of my couch, okay? I don’t want it drenched in sweat. And Yuuri, you too. Go change and please, for the love of god, stay classy and throw out your anime socks, yeah? I found them, you sneaky shit, you’re not fooling anyone. I’ll make some hot chocolate and when you two are back, we’re drinking it and naming the kids, okay?” both men stood there, staring at the Thai boy in awe. “What are you waiting for? Go, sweethearts!”

The three of them hurried to their assigned duties. Yuuri was back from changing before Viktor was out from the shower or Phichit done with the chocolate. He had changed into pajama pants a tad too big on him and a turtle neck that he’d stolen from one of his roommates while in college. It was so big on him that the neck of it hung loosely below his collarbones. Phichit called it _chic_.

He walked into the kitchen and threw his anime socks in the trash. “They were a gift from Yuuko from when we were in highschool, Chulanot,” he lamented.

“That’s nice, honey,” came the flat reply.

Viktor got back from the shower, yawning into his palm as water droplets dripped from his hair. He was wearing a V-neck and yoga pants, and Yuuri wanted to call 911. The three of them settled in the living room and Phichit began, “Okay, fuckersssssss. Let’s do this!”

They watched movies and drank hot chocolate while discussing proper names. Viktor commented it’d be nice if they followed a theme, and the other two boys agreed. The theme ended up being Greek Mythology, because Viktor was a nerd and Phichit thought that’d be pretty aesthetic. Out of seven puppies, two were boys and five girls, so they settled for Agape and Ludus for the boys (“No! Eros is too much pressure, no such thing for my boy! I don’t care about matching, Yuuri, stop comparing your kids!” Phichit had argued) and Calliope, Calypso, Echo, Clytie and Galatea for the girls. Those were their dogs, they named them whatever cool names they came up with.

Once they were done, Phichit clapped his hands together. “We’re done, boys! And it only took us like an hour, jeez, we’re good! Anyways, it’s like, nine?” Yuuri took out his phone to check before Phichit slapped it away, “it wasn’t an actual question, Yuuri-kun. Put your phone away, , thanks bye. It’s like nine and this boy is tired of outshining y’all for a whole day so I’m off to sleep. Enjoy whatever it is that y’all do when you’re on your own, you animals.” And then walked away with a wink.

Viktor stared after him, dazed. “Wow,” he said.

Yuuri also stared after the Thai man. “Yeah.”

“He’s so cool, though? So cheerful.”

Yuuri stared at the Russian. “yeah,” he repeated.

The sat there for a while, both quiet. The silence stretched for a while but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. Yuuri was the first one to break it, “let’s dry your hair and go to bed, ok?” he said, tugging Viktor by the arm. They made their way to the bathroom, where Yuuri sat Viktor on the toilet and blow-dried his hair. He then combed it, and dragged the older man to his room. Too tired to even question it or freak out, Viktor complied and followed, laying in bed with Yuuri Katsuki in the dark.

 _It was fine. This is fine_ , he thought.

He felt warm arms rope him in, and a solid chest press against his back. He was being spooned, he realized, maybe a tad bit late. He turned around, nose bumping into Yuuri’s forehead.

“Ow,” Yuuri complained.

“Sorry.” He was now wide awake.

“Don’t be. Is this okay?” the younger man asked.

Viktor rested his forehead against Yuuri’s, and felt rather than saw the other man’s hold tightening around his waist. “Yeah,” came the breathy answer.

He closed his eyes, and reminded himself to breath. In and out, in and out. For a few moments, the room was completely quiet, muffled sounds coming from the streets floors below them. “I didn’t want you to be alone,” he whispered.

Viktor cracked an eye open. “Good,” he began. “I didn’t want to be alone either.”

Yuuri raised a hand, caressed his cheek with his knuckles. “Was everything truly fine today?”

Viktor leaned into the touch, craved the affection. “Not really? I chose my theme for the season and kinda had flashbacks of that time I got depressed really badly a few years ago? Felt like being back in the hole, you know. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day, so I kept flubbing my jumps at practice and everytime Yakov screamed at me, I felt myself become smaller and smaller until I was nothing.”

His hand stilled, and he quietly asked, “Does that happen often?”

Viktor now realized what he had said. _Awkward,_ he thought. “Uh, not really? I guess I just get too emotional. Feel too much, feel too little. No in between.”

Yuuri’s expression had turned into worry now. “When I first got injured, I got really bad. I would lash out and space out. I’ve always struggled with anxiety, where my hands would sweat and my throat closed up and I would want to run for no reason. It sucks to lose yourself, and once someone adviced me to let people in. Of course I refused, asking for help didn’t work for me at all, but uh… just know that I’m always here, yeah? And that I would never judge you. Mental health is a little wonky thing, and you don’t need a tragic background for it to be messed up. Sometimes it just happens, and I’m really proud of you for being the way you are. For being so much more.”

In the dark, Viktor’s face was unreadable. A sob racketed through the night, and Yuuri held onto the back of his head, pressing it against his neck. He kissed Viktor’s temple and held him until the both of them fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me [here! (bLEASE)](http://ducktocks.tumblr.com/)  
> title for this mess comes from this[jam!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRD-8h8h98o&list=LLg1XBLgUcdBzyEOiB-1PXRA&index=12)   
> also, i knOW it's stressful when they're tgether but not really bc they're not a couple and dont kiss, but listen: i like to suffer. and like, c'mon??? you know they would.


	6. How not to love you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: it happens (or something like that)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iM SORRY updates are so sporadic! school's kicking my ass ´༎ຶ--༎ຶ༽  
> thank you sm for staying tuned! i rlly appreciate all of those who've left comments and kudos, i love y'all! reminder: english isnt my first language, and this is unbeta'd so it might suck. i hope u enjoy anyways :)

For the second time that week, Yuuri woke up to the sight of Viktor’s carved-by-the-Gods face, the only difference  was that this time he was the first one to wake up. Being at your own house gave you cruel dibs on it, he guessed.

Yuuri wasn’t a morning person, and everyone knew it. However, it was hard to keep himself from staring openly at Viktor. It was creepy, yeah, but he figured it’d be much creepier if Viktor were awake. They’d dawned like they’d fallen asleep: drapped around each other. Viktor’s eyelids were rimmed with red, perhaps from his silent tears last night, and in the morning light his freckles were completely visible. They sprinkled his nose and cheekbones beautifully, some drifting further and onto his forehead and chin awkwardly. They were pale, barely visible, and Yuuri loved them more than he dared to admit.

Big blue eyes blinked awake suddenly, surprised. Just then did Yuuri realize he’d been _touching_ his face, oh god. Alarmed eyes quickly settled onto Yuuri and relaxed, features turning soft and smile blooming. “How long have you been awake?” said Viktor, voice groggy from sleep.

“Not long,” he answered. He squirmed, trying to free his arm from under Viktor, who was absolutely not helping him. He ended up tickling Viktor, who screamed and bolted upwards. “But you really need to get up. You have practice today, Vitya.”

A pout soon build its way onto Viktor’s face, “Yeah, but I don’t want to go.” Yuuri chuckled, obviously amused. He then tried his best at imitating the older man and began, “Yeah, but you have to go.”

They stood up and Yuuri started making breakfast while Viktor checked up on the puppies. The picture might’ve seemed too domestic, too similar to the morning routines married couples had in films, but Yuuri couldn’t care less. He was in the middle of frying bacon when Viktor walked in, sinful v-neck showing off his collarbones, where a tiny poodle rested, and it was fine.

He was fine. Everything was fine, he had gone through worse. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to wake up to this every morning. What it would be like to feed all nine dogs while they flocked around Viktor like he was a source of life, and maybe he was.

 He discarded the idea immediately. It was stupid to get ahead of himself like this.

Viktor stopped next to him, cooing at the little dog. “Look at little Calliope! She’s already my favorite, she literally slapped me when I picked her up!” he then looked up, brows furrowed. “Wait a minute, that came out wrong. I don’t have a favorite one, favoritism between your kids is horrible, oh god.”

“Is it, though? I guess it’s hard for me to know because I’ve never had actual children of my own, and my parents never showed any  kind of affection towards Mari that wasn’t aimed at me as well, but it’s like having a big friend group, right? You love them all, but you’ll undoubtedly have a _best friend_ and although you might feel guilty, it doesn’t make you a bad person or change the way thing are—“ he then  raised his gaze from where he’d been chopping strawberries, wide doe-like eyes directed at the Russian man in front of him, “—or how you feel, matter of factly.” He then chucked a piece of fruit and kept cleaving as he chewed.

He couldn’t see Viktor’s face, but he figured he wasn’t pleased by his answer if his grumbling was anything to go by. “Well, I still think it’s terrible. I don’t think he kind of love people usually develop for their offspring resembles the kind you feel towards your friends or significant others. It’s like agape, eros, ludus and all those kinds of love, you see. They’re all valid, but there’s this gap that you’re not supposed to close that makes them different from one another. Besides, I’m sure that having parents like one child better could, uh—“ He scratched at his nape, “—you know, really damage the other kids. Endanger their well-being.”

Yuuri grabbed at the cutting board, and poured the minced fruit into a bowl. As he turned toward the table to set it on the center, he began, “I understand what you’re saying. And yeah, I agree that it is terrible, but what I’m trying to say is that perhaps it’s unavoidable to like people better. I’m not trying to be cruel, and I could never even phantom the idea of liking one of my kids better than another, but I do think that that’s a thing that happens on some families.”

Viktor’s features turned understanding, “Believe me, it happens. And I guess I agree with you, when you put it like that, but that’s not gonna happen in _our_ family, Katsuki. Understood? This isn’t a messed up friend group with trust issues, this is the well-being of my daughter and her descendants and I will not compromise that.” He then walked out, probably to put the puppy back with the rest of them.

“I wasn’t trying to imply that? I never said that. stop being ridiculous, we’re not even married, Nikiforov!”

“Yeah, but we could be, no?” he suggested, now puppy-less.

“I— I—what?” he stammered. “Vitya, just sit down and eat your breakfast.”

Viktor obliged, sitting on a chair with perfectly straight posture and brilliant smile. He looked like a boy scout. “No, I’m being serious. Haven’t you considered that?”

Yuuri sat down, a serious look on his face. His round cheeks now seemed severe, and his eyes had gone dark, a storm brewing inside them. “Don’t you know when to stop? My private life isn’t something meant to entertain or amuse you, Viktor. If you want a fucking play then go to Broadway, I’m sure someone there would appreciate your ideas.”

A flick of something resembling hurt flashed Viktor’s eyes, and for a second, Yuuri’s mouth tasted sour with the pettiness of his words.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

Objectively speaking, Viktor knew Yuuri hadn’t meant to be as harsh as he’d sounded. Yet, his limbs felt heavy and his gaze turned steely.  

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it, Yura,” he said.

“I don’t know shit, to be honest!” tears prickled at his eyes, and just then did Viktor realize that this wasn’t Yuuri’s fault. There had been a huge misunderstanding between the two of them once again and it had been his fault. What was the point of deciding to tell the Japanese boy how he felt if he was going to end up speaking in riddles?

When he was in his early teens, maybe 13 or 14, his dad had sat him down on his studio and made him look him dead in the eye. Alexander Nikiforov was by no means a terrifying man. He was tall and slender, a walking mop of sandy hair and hasty ideas, the kind of man who had pants tailored above the ankle so he could ‘show off the cool socks your mother got me, Vitenka!’. Nevertheless, Viktor will never be able to erase from his mind the determined look on his eyes as he declared, “Viktor, courage is useless for people like you and me.”

At the time, Viktor had been confused. “Courage is for people who _fret_ , Vitya. It might come in handy to people like your mother, people who calculate too much, people who are too smart for their own good and evaluate risks. But us, son, we’re just clever. People like us _choose_ to be afraid when choose to think at all,” his father had elaborated. Right now, however, Viktor couldn’t help but think that his father had wasted his time by trying to teach him a lesson back then. It was stupid for people like Viktor to worry over courage or fear because in the end, his mouth would get ahead of himself.

Maybe that’s why, as he reached for Yuuri’s quivering hand across the table, he stated, “You shouldn’t. Is it wild for me to genuinely want it, though?”

Yuuri’s expression seemed troubled now. “Want what?” he pondered.

Big mouth or brave heart, either way Viktor was a selfish man who _wanted, wanted, and wanted_.

“You.”

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

“I—what?”

To say Yuuri was lost was an understatement. They had been having breakfast, exchanging meaningless comments back and forth, and suddenly they had been fighting. Why was Viktor spewing _so much nonsense_?

All of his brewing anger seemed to fade away, his hand retracting from where it laid on the table under Viktor’s own. Certainly he had misunderstood something, missed part of the conversation, zoned out at some point, anything that would lead him to _miss the whole fucking point_.

“I—ah—I wasn’t planning on telling you right now? But we started to fight because I suck at communicating and tried to joke about it, but I ended up giving myself away, didn’t I?” it didn’t sound like a question that needed an answer. “Anyway, the cat’s out of the bag so yeah. I like you, I guess.”

His cheeks were flushed, and he seemed nervous as Yuuri stared at him in silence. After a while, his eyes widened, expression embarrassed. “Wait, no!” he began, hands waving frantically, “cancel that ‘I guess’ please. This isn’t a guess, I am pretty sure I do. I hadn’t meant for, uh—you know, for you to get offended by that joke about marrying? But I wasn’t mocking you or anything like that, although I don’t see why you’d take it like that, to be honest. Anyhow, it was a joke about how much I like you, but I obviously didn’t think it through.”

They stared at each other for a while, Yuuri’s eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

_What the fuck was going on_.

Viktor shoved some fruit on his mouth and chewed slowly, perhaps still waiting for Yuuri to say something. Unfortunate, really. No way in hell poor Yuuri could answer to that right now. A phone blared off to a pop song in a language Yuuri couldn’t pinpoint. Viktor, startled, fumbled with the phone until he was able to answer it, and an angry barking voice could be heard in the other end.

“Yeah, sure. Ah, _da…  prosti!_ I’ll be there in half an hour, _da?_ ” more angry protest on the other side of the line. “Yeah, but I— that’s the best I can do, Yakov! I’ll see you then, okay? Yeah, thanks, bye!” he declared, and hung up.  He pushed his plate forward, towards Yuuri. “I gotta go right now. You don’t need to answer to what I told you earlier, though. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, and I don’t expect you to reciprocate. Either way, I really like being your friend and being close to you, so I would really appreciate it if we could remain friends, but if that’s too uncomfortable for you then I won’t mind. We’d have to figure out how to work that around our kids, but we could try if that’s what you’d like. I’ll come by in the afternoon to check on the babies, by the way.” He stood up, chair squeaking as it scraped the floor. He looked apologetic, hand rubbing at his nape. “Anyway, see you later,” he said, smiling.

His smile then turned into a boyish grin, and in two long strides he was standing next to Yuuri. He bent down and pressed a quick kiss to Yuuri’s cheek, then dashed to the door, eager to leave while shouting something along the lines of ‘oh god, forgive me’ and ‘okay, bye! Thanks for breakfast.’ Yuuri just stayed behind, standing dumbfounded on his kitchen. He then ran to his bedroom, almost tripping multiple times. He reached for his phone, which he had left charging on his nightstand last night. _Last night_ , he thought. He opened the messaging app, and quickly clicked on the contact for Phichit. 

**(** **◡** **‿** **◡** **✿** **)**

**OHICJIT!!;!!!;**

_Read 9:17 AM_

Wassup my boiiii. Ohicjit, yeah, that’s

 exactly what my birth certificate reads lol.

**Phi, I’m dying!!!!!!**

_Read 9:22 AM_

Woaaaah, Yuuri? What does that mean? Are

you ok? Do you need me to call? W h a t  d o

 y o u  n e e d ? Yuuri, bLEASE I WOULD DIE FOR

 YOU.

**What. No, Phichit, I’m fine haha. Well, not really?**

**I freaked out, but I’m overall fine. Please never die.**

_Read 9:24 AM_

THeN wHaT is iT???? are u sure ur fine? Why did u freak out, bby?

**Well, uh. You know how Viktor stayed over last night?**

_Read 9:25 AM_

OHHHHH

 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

 

Yuuri, you beautiful man, you’re nasty!!! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

**PHICHIT NO WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU**

_Read 9:27 AM_

 

How boring, wow. Okay, yeah, your mansss stayed

 over to care for your nine children. And?

 

**We woke up today and we were about to have breakfast**

**and then he joked about marrying me and I was like :( so**

**I got sorta pissed and anxious and then he was like :( too and he ended**

**up saying he likes me and idk what to do lol good morning**

_Read 9:28 AM_

**@God kill me thx**

_Read 9:28 AM_

!!!!!!!

 

YUURI! THAT’S GREAT!!!! What did u tell him?

 did y’all freaks smooch? ( ˘ ³˘) I’m shookkkk

 

**HNggGG no? I freaked out and said nothing.**

**Then his coach called so he left. He told me it was fine if I didn’t**

**feel the same, that he’d like to keep being friends.**

_Read 9:29 AM_

Okay… how nice! But wby?

**Phichit, I don’t wanna be his friend.**

_Read 9:29 AM_

 

[Jenny-STUDIO KILLERS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hyj4JFSErrw)

_Read 9:28 AM_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is really important that you click on that last link yuuri sent and listen to the lyrics in order to get what will happen next, guys!  
> as you probably noticed, it is slowburn but not really. because i had made them like each other from before the story began, i think too much slowburn would be tedious. specially for me lol. however, i dont plan for them to get together just yet! it'll be mutual pinning but none of them will do anything abt it for a while bc like. that's the show lol that's who this losers are sorry. the song Yuuri sends is abt lesbians yea lol #blaster. thank u for reading, and i hope y'all have great a great week! i luv phichit sm tho lol just a sidenote. the title for this chapter comes from [this](https://www.google.com.mx/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiQ1f3GtbjXAhVn44MKHf3xDHUQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DZzF4h1ORSyQ&usg=AOvVaw2ByJdsIBoae05pficzeORq) song!


	7. Blessed by the mystery of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or: honesty makes flowers bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternavely titled, the author lied. the title for this chapter comes from [this song!](https://www.google.com.mx/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwj2grOz0tvXAhWL5oMKHYtODjIQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DDCsyocpQyok&usg=AOvVaw1NxS2dnp_CkdshhCtbEfwA) i love sulfjan stevens sm???? he gave me my life with fourth of july so its only right he takes it back with mystery of love and visions of gideon lol.

Viktor got home from practice at nearly seven. His muscles ached and Yuri had been in a terrible mood all day, screeching at everyone who even dared breathe in his direction. God, Yakov should kick some sense into that kid.

He remembers when Yuri first came to Detroit. He’d been 21 when he walked into Yakov’s office - probably to rant about Lilia’s regime – and encountered a 10 year old with the saddest eyes he had ever seen. He remembers Yura being mellow and quiet. Yakov had introduced them, and Viktor had immediately recognized his last name. Yuri hadn’t commented on it, but when he came across Nikolai while exiting the rink, it became apparent Yuri was just moving rinks. So he would see a lot more of his cousin, after all.

A few months forward Yuri had settled down. He lived with Yakov and Lilia, just like Viktor himself had had to for a few months when he was 15 and debuting in seniors. Soon, he discovered Yuri was always on edge but never violent. He was a determined kid, and the sadness of his steely gaze turned into courage or defiance every time he set foot on the ice. When Yuri turned 11, Viktor settled that Yuri was the kind of person who wore his heart on his sleeve, and by the time he was 13 he figured the kid was scared shitless of it.

Sometimes, Yuri would say stuff that made Viktor regret not having been close to the kid before. Now, 5 years after truly reconnecting with the soft looking boy with a storm brewing behind his eyes, he decided he was developing distaste for the teen’s newfound anger. A few days ago he had kicked him in the back after Viktor had accused him of jealousy, and it was time his muscles still ached every time he landed a jump. They were offseason right now, and he hoped it would go away before Yakov got into competitive mode. Most of the time, Viktor wished his mother and aunt had never fought. He wished Sylvie weren’t such a proud woman, and although he didn’t resent her for any hard feelings remaining from the conflict with her sister, he was painfully conscious that maybe, if he and Yura had grown together, he would be able to understand Yuri better now.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

After a quick shower at the rink, Viktor put his headphones on and made his way home. He decided to walk, and the changing colors of the sky made something inside him itch. Viktor had never been afraid of change, maybe because his parents were keen on it. He hadn’t hesitated when Yakov offered him his home back when he was 15. He hadn’t thought twice when he ran off to France with Christophe when he turned 17, and his breath hadn’t hitched when he chopped off his hair at 19. Injuries, sunburns, hairdye and traveling; Viktor never hesitated to do anything. “Calculating is useless for people like you and me,” his father used to say, and Viktor would wonder if that was true, if he was really so much like his father. When he was 16 he decided he really wasn’t, but never had the heart to tell his dad and instead nods every time he visits and gets told the same.

In the end, Viktor was just like Sylvie: gentle features and sharp mind. Viktor wasn’t stupid, he was reckless. He messed up and he was forgetful, but that didn’t mean he was a total airhead. Viktor wasn’t oblivious to the consequences of his actions; he just either thought it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission or simply miscalculated. A big dog walks by his side on a bridge and decides to lick his hand, so Viktor crouches and ruffles his fur, carding his fingers through it. The owner, a young girl, seemed deeply embarrassed, arguing her dog is sometimes overfriendly. “I’m sorry! She always holds back strangers, no matter what I tell her.”

Viktor smiles gently, understanding. “It’s fine, really! I’m an animal lover. I have a dog myself, her name’s Makkachin.”

The girl’s eyes widen comically, and she opens her mouth to speak. When words fail her, she decides to try again, “Wait, Makkachin? Oh my god, you’re Viktor Nikiforov! Oh my god, dear lord, Knopka and I love to watch your programs! You’re such an inspiration, I can’t believe this!”

He mustered a smile. Damn, the dog was cute. A Samoyed perhaps? “Thank you, uh…”

“Alyona,” the girl supplied.

“Ah, thank you, Alyona. You’re very kind, and you have a wonderful dog.”

The girl asked for a picture, and he smiled at the camera. The girl squealed and beamed when he asked her to tag him in it, and told her that it had been lovely meeting a fellow Russian. After that, they both carried on, the girl making small talk at her dog. The sky was now a deep shade of blue, and he had lost his previous train of thought. He soon reached his apartment’s building, and entered the lobby. He flopped down on one of the couches, and closed his eyes. His phone buzzed, a notification from instagram.

_I N S T A G R A M_

_@alyskates tagged you in a post! Click to see it._ _5 mins ago_

 

He clicked it, and the page of the young girl from the street popped up. Her feed was full of pictures of Knopka and one minute long videos of tiny axels and Biellmanns. The picture was captioned “ _I wanna thank not only God but also Jesus. Also, yes: he gLOWS!!!! @v_nikiforov spill the tea boi”_ and it was actually a nice shot. He was smilling his usual smile and but the girl’s smile was so genuine it was blinding. He liked it and commented _“Wonderful meeting you! I ran out of tea this morning, though!”_ and pocketed his phone. He threw his head back and stared at the high ceilings. He particularly liked this building because it resembled the stereotypical American offices from the 20s he would see on the T.V growing up.

A soft song started playing and he closed his eyes, waiting for his knees to be able to support his weight again. For a brief second, he seriously considered giving figure skating up. He wanted to sleep forever and be free of Yuri Plisetsky and weak knees. He was starting to drift off when something flopped on the couch next to him.

Startled, his eyes flew open, limbs flailing in a silly attempt to sit up. He turned to see who the offender was, headphones having slipped to his neck, only to discover it was Yuuri. He had dark circled under his eyes, and his tie was undone. “Yuuri…”

His hair was a mess and he was staring at nothing in particular. “Hey,” he muttered. He then turned around and grabbed for Viktor’s headphones. “Oh,” he exclaimed. “Cool [song](https://www.google.com.mx/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiaiun309vXAhWM8oMKHfL6Dw8QtwIIJzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DWOrHUNRNAWI&usg=AOvVaw2C3YcKksscZCYbIyUPu4gW), I like it.” He was confused, but smiled none the less. Was Yuuri trying to ignore what had happened that morning? It was okay, Viktor had told him it was fine if he decided to ignore it had happened at all, so he should respect it.

He relaxed back into the couch. “Yeah? So do I,” he told him. Yuuri threw him a glaze sideways and snorted, perhaps amused. “Yeah, I figured.”

They remained in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then Viktor raised his leg and tucked it under the other, turning his whole body to face Yuuri. He took his headphones back and stuffed them into his gym bag. “Hey, Yuuri? Are you mad?”

The Japanese man sat upright and faced him too. “Mh? No, I’m not. Why would you think that, Vitya?” His face seemed calm, but just now Viktor noticed something danced in his eyes. “I…” he trailed off. “I guess I just got confused. Because of what happened this morning, I guess I mixed up your fatigue for anger.”

Something crossed his features, but he quickly turned away. Face flushed, Yuuri walked towards the lift. “Let’s go upstairs, alright? I think it’s time we move the kids over.”

He wordlessly followed.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

After the world’s most uncomfortable ride, the elevator finally reached their floor. Yuuri fumbled with his keys, looking apologetically at Viktor at his third attempt. “Phichit isn’t home, let’s move them quickly before he comes and slows us down.” Viktor gave him a questioning look, so he explained, “He became quite close to Agape, I think he’ll ask to keep him. I’d rather avoid that and hand him the puppy before he even needs to ask.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll go unlock my door and get the bed ready, then.” Yuuri nodded, and he dashed off.

He opened the door to his apartment, and shivered. The folded blankets from the day Yuuri had stayed over laid on his couch, and he felt as if he hadn’t been home in forever. He turned on the lights and paced to the living room where he set the bed next to Makkachin’s own. Soon, Yuuri knocked and let himself in, four puppies in his arms. He was trying to kill him, most likely. “I’ll go get the rest, settle these meanwhile,” he uttered before rushing out. Walking wordlessly and confused towards the living room, Viktor sat down on the rug and next to the puppies. They were going to turn a week old soon, and none of them had opened their eyes yet. They were small, and vulnerable, and Viktor could often see a bit of himself in all things weak.

It wasn’t something he usually let people catch onto, but Viktor was a soft man, perhaps too soft for his own good most of the time. He’d risen to the spotlight at age 16, the world gone breathless by his beauty and passion on the ice. But fame came at a price, and soon tabloids started focusing on personal aspects, parts of him that no one deserved to know just yet. Headline after headline, Viktor was getting tired of himself, mostly due to his annoyance at the magazines being useless.

 He would land a quad and the headlines would read **_“Viktor Nikiforov’s summer abroad? Freckles on his cheeks give him away!”_** or **_“Skinny Viktor! Puberty hitting like a bus or health issues? Find the answers!”_** and while he learned to stop minding it, Viktor would never forget lying on his mother’s lap at age 18, crying and insisting he hated it.

 _“Vitenka, you’ve known this for years, but excellence has high stakes. The difficult part isn’t succeeding, but finding people who’re genuinely glad for you, and if you can’t find anyone—if your father and I aren’t enough, that is—then be that person yourself,”_ she had said, eyes shiny and smile as stern as it was caring.  So perhaps Viktor was a bit of an airhead, maybe he was selfish and careless and blunt, but he had never let cruelty determine his behavior. Fake smiles and rock-star like charisma were perhaps devoid of emotion when directed at the public, at a rabid crowd, but they were also harmless and exactly the persona people fawned over.

Viktor had learned to be proud out of need. “ _Full_ _of yourself_ ,” Yakov would say every time he fixed a rink mate’s posture, “ _perhaps Lilia could teach some humbleness.”_ Too cold, too dumb, online forums would read. _Easy for them to say_ , he thought, _the tip of the mountain is usually freezing._ At times, Viktor felt unknowable. He craved affection, yet feared rejection. He was brutally honest to others faults, but had a hard time embracing his own. He wanted to be known, yet loved surprising people. He was a legend and “The World’s Most Desirable Bachelor” according to Forbes, yet lonesome. It wasn’t about lacking love, because there were plenty of people in his life who cared for him and loved him, but more like being covered by a warm blanket that doesn’t quite reach your feet. Now, as the puppies start to gently snore, Viktor was reminded of his own vulnerability, just like he had been that morning, and of all the things that had allowed him to remain soft.

In the warmth of his apartment, Viktor became a sight many would pay to see. Sprawled next to a basket full of puppies and cheeks reddened from practice, he was the epitome of vulnerability. The floor creaked, and the gentle muffled sound of Yuuri padding became more vivid as he stepped closer.

The door to his apartment clicked shut.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

“Viktor?” a soft voice called. “Are you okay? Why don’t you go take a shower? I’ll make something so you eat. You look very tired.”

“Are you staying over?” he asked. He had zoned out, aware of the footsteps approaching him but too hooked up in his thoughts as to really notice their proximity until Yuuri had stretched an arm and laid a hand on his shoulder, the other holding three whiny puppies. The question might’ve accidentally sounded like Viktor was complaining about the Japanese man’s intentions, because Yuuri furrowed his brows in confusion. “I—I thought I had asked, I—I’m sorry, should I leave?” he stammered, panic visible in his eyes and hands motioning at the door.

Viktor reincorporated himself, and coaxed Yuuri’s hands back to his sides. “No, I was just asking to make sure. You can stay—in fact, I want you to.” His cheeks colored a marvelous shade of scarlet, and he raised a hand to softly push Viktor’s face away. “That’s gay,” he muttered, amusement and affection dripping from his voice as he walked away to lay the puppies down. Viktor gasped, “Yeah? Well, Yuuri, guess what?” Yuuri turned around to face him, smiling wide and eyes crinkled with amusement. “What?” he played along, stepping closer to him.

Once he was close enough, he raised a hand and laid it over Viktor’s chest, heart beating under it. He grinned, pure and innocent as he touched his forehead to Yuuri’s, before whispering, “I’m hella gay.” Now it was Yuuri’s turn to gasp, although it came out more as a chuckle because of his poor attempt at holding back his laughter. “What do you mean by that? Oh dear lord, who would’ve thought the great Viktor Nikiforov would be anything but straight? Shall I leak it online?” he pondered, now craning his neck and standing on his tiptoes to nuzzle at Viktor’s cheek.

Viktor closed his eyes and sighed, taking a moment to bask in the warmth and gentleness of the touch. “I don’t know, would you do that? What would the tabloids read?” he asked back, now rubbing their cheeks together. Yuuri smiled around his answer, “I figure ‘Local Russian man outed by excessive usage of v-necks’ is a pretty spot-on guess, what do you think?” Viktor pulled away, instantly missing the warmth of Yuuri’s hands on his chest but determined as he gasped in horror. “Yuuri! You wound me, did you know it is extremely toxic behavior to pressure me into stereotypes just because I am a gay man?” he inquired, face serious. Yuuri widened his eyes, mortified expression. “Oh, no, Viktor—I, I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that I just,” he tried, stepping back. Viktor chuckled and reached for his wrists, pulling him back into his embrace.

“I was just joking, _Yurachka_. I know you didn’t mean anything by it, and I believe it makes sense. I wear v-necks with God as my witness and didn’t pass my driving text until last year, I believe. Of course no one would mistake me for a straight man, my little fool,” he amended, now nuzzling at Yuuri’s temple, the younger man having buried his face in his neck. They stood like that for a while, Viktor circling Yuuri’s waist with his arms and pressing his lips to his temple, until Vicchan yawned and Makkachin let out a deep and low bark. Yuuri raised his head and pulled away, expression somewhat mournful before saying, “Go take a shower, Vitya. I’ll make dinner and we can watch something.” Viktor pouted, and grabbed at Yuuri’s retreating form, pulling him back into a hug.

Yuuri swated at him, slapping gently at his shoulder. “Viktor! Stop it, you’re all sweaty from practice! Go take a shower, silly Vitya!” He laughed out loud, while Yuuri giggled and struggled to get away from his embrace. Soon, the Japanese man was free from his hold and out of reach as he dashed to the kitchen. With a soft chuckle, Viktor walked to the shower.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

 Viktor came out of the shower with a heavy cloud of steam behind him. His skin felt fresh and his muscles no longer ached. He walked toward the kitchen, where he found Yuuri pouring food from a pot into two bowls. He set the pot down as he noticed Viktor on the entryway, and he wiped his hands on a towel hanging from the stove. He then circled the kitchen island, beaming and offering a bowl of warm food to him. “You need to go grocery shopping, Victor. You had nearly nothing, but I managed to make some mac and cheese. It’s warm and hopefully good enough you can swallow, Vitenka.”

Viktor flushed at the usage of the pet name, but ate a spoonful anyways. He hummed approvingly, and said around a mouthful, “Yuuri! This is really good!” Yuuri threw him a pitying look. “Oh, Viktor. You need to eat better, dear. Also, don’t speak with your mouth open, it’s repulsive.”

“Yeah, fine. Does that mean you’ll come over more often and cook for me?” he mocked, although something hopeful laid buried under his statement. Yuuri, probably having caught up to it, answered with a simple, “Sure thing. Now hurry up and eat, we both look like trash and need to sleep. I have work tomorrow and it’s been crazy. There’s this case, and I’ve never seen anything like it,” he began. Viktor chewed slowly, eyes fixed intently on Yuuri, trying to engrave every dip and curve of his face as he retold things from his day. He finished his meal, and so did Yuuri. He refrigerated what had been left on the pot, and washed both bowls quickly, rinsing them and Yuuri drying them.

They made their way to the living room, and as Viktor flopped on the couch, Yuuri remained standing next to him. Viktor got comfy, Makkaching hoping on top of him. He stretched his legs and stared up at Yuuri, eyes questioning. Yuuri smiled, and nestled in between his legs, resting his head on his chest and having Makkachin curl against his chest as a tired Vicchan slept next to the babies. They started watching the first show to pop up on Viktor’s Netflix recommended section. Halfway through the first season, Viktor felt his eyelids grow heavier. He was startled awake when he felt the soft press of lips on the underside of his jaw line. He opened his eyes, and was greeted by warm sleepy eyes and mussed hair. He kissed Yuuri’s crown and paused the T.V. before setting the remote down again.

He then rearranged them on the couch, Yuuri pressed against him and his face buried on his neck, while his own back was pressed against the back of the couch. He tucked the shorter man’s head under his chin, and sighed, closing his eyes. He was drifting off when he felt another press of lips, this time to the side of his throat. He sighed, and smiled softly without opening his eyes, trying to sleep again. He nearly managed this time, except Yuuri wiggled and peppered his face in soft kissed. First his eyelids –each of them— and then his nose, a fourth one on his forehead and then multiple messy ones to his cheeks. He giggled, and cracked an eye open. Yuuri’s face was filled with mirth, and when he caught Viktor staring at him, he buried his face on his shoulder. “I hadn’t seen your freckles until I met you in person,” he stated.

Viktor yawned. “I usually have them concealed for photo shoots. They’re too faint to be anything but annoying. I still don’t like them that much, to be honest, but there’s nothing I can do,” he shrugged. Yuuri raised his head and gaped at him, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “How can you say that?” he demanded. “Vitenka, they’re absolutely lovely. _You’re_ absolutely lovely! In fact, you’re so lovely not even the sun could keep from kissing you,” he chipped, grinning. His stomach ached, and his chest felt constricted. It was ridiculous for him to even be able to be this happy. He smirked, “You think so?”

Yuuri stared at him in distrust, before settling back down and nuzzling at the soft spot under his chin. His voice came muffled as he said, “I know so.” Viktor smiled softly, warmth spreading through his chest.

“Then I guess I can like them,” he decided. Yuuri pushed his head further into Viktor’s neck. “Good,” he declared. They kept quiet for a while before Viktor raised his voice again. “Hey, Yuuri? But do you wanna know what I love the most?” Yuuri didn’t raise his head or move, breathing coming out even as he relaxed into sleep. “Mh-hm.”

“You,” he whispered into his ear. Yuuri flinched back immediately, eyes wide as he stared at him in disbelief. His voice came out choked, “You—you can’t say things like that when you don’t mean them, Viktor.” His eyes were shiny and wet with tears, and Viktor raised a hand to his cheek, ready to wipe any stray ones.

Voice gentle as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on Yuuri’s left cheek, he said, “Oh, but I do. I meant it this morning, I mean it now, and I have meant it forever, Yuuri. Please stop making it seem like it’s impossible to fall in love with you when you’re so lovable, _ma étoile_.” A choked sob came from Yuuri, tears running down his cheeks and a bittersweet smile plastered on his face. “You’re so good with words, Vitya,” he began, touching Viktor’s hand with his own, “You say things I’d like to believe but never can all the time.” He linked their hands together, “What do you want me to be to you, Yuuri?”

“Nothing, just be yourself,” he said. “Have more faith in me that I do.” Viktor smiled, and pulled Yuuri by the back of his neck towards him. He pressed their noses together, and whispered softly, “I already do that, and I’m afraid it’s not enough, although I see you hadn’t realized so. Who would’ve thought Yuuri Katsuki would be such a selfish man, right?” he grinned. Yuuri chuckled, eyes almost closing from smiling and crying. His face was blotchy and he was beautiful. Victor wanted to kiss him.

So he did.

**ฅ** **^•** **ﻌ** **•^** **ฅ**

He pressed his lips to Yuuri’s softly, tentative. Yuuri’s breath hitched and he jerked back, eyes wide open. “I—I think that, uh—are you sure?” He kissed Yuuri’s cheek, and whispered on his ear, “ _Da._ ” Yuuri closed his eyes and released a shaky breath. He then suddenly turned his head and pressed his lips to Viktor’s. It was experimental, sweet, and completely new to both of them. He was starting to move his own mouth, when Yuuri pulled back breathless. “I’m really bad at this,” he said, and ran a hand through his hair. Viktor thinned his lips. “No, you’re not. But it’s late, and you’re tired. We can leave this for tomorrow, if you still want it.”

Yuuri settled back in between his arms. “Of course I’ll want this. We’ll have a talk too, right?” Viktor sighed, “Yeah, I guess we will.” Yuuri shifted. “Oh. Okay, then…”

Viktor kissed his forehead. “Go to sleep, Yura.” Yuuri kissed the corner of his mouth, and whispered, “Goodnight, Vitya. I love you the most too, by the way.” He widened his eyes, and whined, “Yuuri! You can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to be fine!” Yuuri blinked innocently. “Oh? Well, then. Would you feel better if I took it back?”

“Yuuri!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they sigh sm... everything is so dramatic... this is so bad.... thank you sm for reading anyways! i know updates are... so inconsistent lol, but school is rlly hectic and my bday messed up my schedule and yeahhhh. this chapter was also so long??? wow sorry. i am really emotional rn so i had them kiss bc like. it just felt right???? ngl ive spent the whole day listening to sulfjan stevens so im in a mood, boys. you can find me [here!](http://ducktocks.tumblr.com/) comments, kudos and literally anything is greatly appreciated! have a great week, y'all! english isnt my first language and im a teenager so this is vvv bad, but id appreaciate your help in pointing out mistakes!


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